This is one of those poets who lit their candles from Pushkin's fire, but also turned pale in its dazzling radiance. In addition, Venevitinov's very life flashed by so quickly, so tragically quickly, that he did not have time to finish singing his songs, and those rich possibilities of mind and talent that lurked in his chosen soul could not unfold into a vivid poetic work. Before us is an excerpt, several poems, several articles, and from these hints we must now restore the beautiful appearance of the young singer.
He had a ring found in the "dusty grave", and the mystical Venevitinov always carried it with him as a talisman, and his friends put on the same ring in the moments of his death agony - this is how they married him to death. But even more than a ring, the young man was guarded by another, spiritual talisman: his worship of beauty. With it, he protected himself from every breath of vulgarity ("it's good to die young" ...) and the bright one left the world, with his untimely death plunging many into sincere sadness, into some kind of woeful bewilderment. "My soul is torn," Prince Odoevsky wrote, "I am crying like a child." Pushkin blamed his friends: "How did you let him die?" The old man Dmitriev wrote an epitaph for him with a "trembling hand", where he is mournfully surprised at his old age, burying his youth. Koltsov left his poetic sigh on his grave. For with Venevitinov, a deep inner world died, "a soul rich in itself", dressed in itself - the crystal nobility of thoughts and aspirations.
He foresaw his early death. Internally doomed to death, her young fiancé, married to her with a talisman ring, he put sad prophetic words into his poet's mouth:
My soul told me a long time ago:
You will rush through the world like lightning!
You can feel everything
But you won't enjoy life.
The poet comforts in this not himself, but a condoling friend; he himself agrees that fate has different gifts for different people, and if one is destined to "prosper with developed strength and death to erase the trace of life," then the other will die early, but "will live behind a gloomy grave."
Venevitinov, that Lensky of our poetry, "wandered the world with a lyre"; but he not only loved the talisman of beauty - he understood it. An artist, he was also a philosopher. Our ancient wisdom counts him among its adherents. He would like to lift the veil "from the forehead of the mysterious nature" and plunge into the "ocean of beauty." His young thought, brought up on Schelling, gravitated higher and higher, and now, a reverent friend and listener of Pushkin, he remarks to him, the "accessible genius", that he still underpaid his debt to the Kamens, that Pushkin had not yet bowed to Goethe: after Byron and Chenier is waiting for our Russian Proteus, also a great German.
Our mentor, your mentor,
He lies in the land of dreams,
In my native Germany.
Hands so cold
Sometimes they run along the strings,
And intermittent sounds
Like after a sad separation
Dear old friendship voice,
We are led to familiar thoughts.
So far, his heart has not cooled down,
And believe me, he is alive with joy
In the shelter of dull old age
Still hear your voice
And maybe captivated by you
Inspired by the last heat,
The swan will sing in response
And, to the sky with a song of divination
Stirrup solemn flight,
In the delight of a wondrous dream
You, O Pushkin, will be called.
As you know, there is a hypothesis that it was to this poem that Pushkin responded with his "Scene from Faust" and that Goethe really named Pushkin - dedicated a quatrain to him. But whether this is true or not, it is in any case significant that Venevitinov called to Goethe, the poet of wisdom, the poet of depth, that the young man pointed to the world old man.
In the pantheon of mankind, this young man has other favorite heroes, among people he has gods, and it is characteristic that he identifies them with his personal, real friends. He calls Shakespeare a true friend and looks at each writer as if he were his interlocutor. If, in general, the writer and the reader are correlative, then in relation to Venevitinov this is especially true, since he considers any living book to be written specifically for himself. At the same time, books do not suppress his spirit; having absorbed so much experience from Shakespeare, he did not lose his immediate liveliness.
In his rich fantasy
I have lived to the fullest
And early experience did not buy
Raptures of early loss.
Not having time to lose enthusiasm, he walked his short journey with them. Pure effervescence, holy anxiety of the spirit is heard on its pages, and its "thoughtful eyelids" hid a fiery and passionate gaze. Sincere curiosity for life, a hymn to its flowers - and at the same time the work of philosophical consciousness: this combination of "mind with a fiery soul" is most essential for the young poet, "mind and heart agreed in him," and he theoretically recognized such agreement as a condition for creativity. . He already knows everything, but he still feels it vividly. He understood everything, but did not lose interest in anything. In his own words, he "combined the souls of hot dreams with a cold life," and this is precisely his attraction, his charms. As a philosopher, as a thinker, he cannot fail to pay tribute to pessimism; but will not the coldness of life recede before a warm soul?
The hot soul of Venevitinov often speaks in his poems about heat, fire, flame, Italy, "the hot homeland of beauty". She devotes herself to something better than life, to the beautiful, and that's why she burns. Life can deceive, "insidious Siren", and the poet will not bow to her:
To you my stingy hands
They will not bring obedient tribute,
And I'm not doomed to you.
He has wonderful ideas and words about this life. First, she has a windy one. wings are lighter than those of a swallow, and therefore it trustingly takes wings of frisky joy to itself and flies, flies, admiring the beautiful burden. But, the philosopher, Venevitinov knows that joy has its own heaviness. And life shakes frisky joy from its weary wings and replaces it with sadness, which does not seem so heavy to it. But even under the burden of this new friend, the light wings are more and more inclined.
And soon falls
They have a new guest
And life is tired
Alone, no burden
Fly freer;
Only in the wings
Barely noticeable
From burdens thrown
Traces remain
And imprinted
On light feathers
Two colors are pale:
A little light
From frisky joy
A little dark
From a gloomy guest.
Life, in the end, flies, slowly flies - alone, tired, indifferent, without joy, without sorrow: but is it life then? And again, then, is it not good that Venevitinov died, that he did not live to see death, moral death?
We get used to miracles.
Then we look at everything lazily;
And then life took its toll on us.
Her mystery and plot
Already long, old, boring,
Like a fairy tale retold
Tired before one o'clock.
Fairy tales that are not retold are good.
Our young singer could be at a loss before life, before its complexity and changeable waves, "not knowing what to love, what to sing." But, a thinker and a poet, he soon, after the first minutes of surprise, believed that the world itself, as a harmonious system, as a great whole, would sympathetically enter into his consciousness, related to the world, merge into a single image and from his soul, a friendly soul, expel high praise beautiful hymns. The world and the heart have the same strings - they will understand each other and merge in the poet's song.
Venevitinov believes in the poet. He paints his image with clever and original colors that correspond to his general worldview, harmoniously combining elements of art and philosophy. The poet, the broadcaster of the word, according to the peculiar thought of our singer, is silent.
Silent genius of thought
He was given from birth
The seal of silence on the lips.
The poet is like contemplation. The Knight of Silence, the great silencer, he keeps in himself "unsolved feelings", and if his few inspired words are so beautiful, it is precisely because they are born in the bosom of silence. And the poet, the son of silence, wise silence, as if ashamed of the spoken words, -
As if he hears a reproach
For irrevocable impulses.
That is why it is necessary to pass by the poet without noise, so that his quiet dreams, his deep meditation, are not frightened. And for himself, Venevitinov wants this sacred solitude; he calls on his guardian angel to become a faithful guardian of the enemy of his kingdom and overshadow his feelings with a secret. He is also afraid of other violent visitors, other tatis: "laziness with a dead soul", "envy with a poisonous eye." Particularly noteworthy is this fear of laziness, the soul of which he so correctly calls murdered: a living poet, he most of all, like Pushkin, did not want to turn into a dead soul. He was ready to give up joy (“reject joy from the heart: she is an unfaithful wife”), he wanted peace and thought, he did not want only death. But it was she who came, physical, and extinguished the fire in his "all-loving" chest.
Would it be a consolation to him that he left a trail of glory behind him? May be. Although he. as we have just seen, he refused earthly joy, an unfaithful wife, but sometimes (as in the poem "Three Fates") he still considered the best lot to be the share of the one who is "the careless pet of fun and laziness." And to his poet’s friend, he, the dissatisfied spouse of joy, an unfaithful wife, nevertheless attributed deep indifference to existence in the rays of afterlife glory: “what’s beyond the grave is not ours,” but you want your own, you want life in its warmth and tangibility:
I love that my heart warms
What can I call mine
What a pleasure in a full bowl
We are offered every day.
Nevertheless, the poet at Venevitinov dies with the hope that he will not be forgotten and that he will be remembered:
How he knew life, how little he lived!
This, of course, is an epitaph for Venevitinov himself: he lived little, but knew life deeply - he knew it with the thought of a philosopher and the feeling of an artist. A friend of Shakespeare, and Goethe, and Pushkin, smart and warm-hearted, he bequeathed to Russian literature a pure memory and the sadness of an unfinished song. Alexander Odoevsky said that the young singer would hear this song, “not heard in the earthly strings”, in heaven; here, on earth, the “barely tuned lyre” fell out of his hands early, and therefore he did not have time “to pour out the beauty and harmony of the world into a harmonious sound.” He only hinted at this beauty. Alexander Odoevsky could say the same about himself.
From the book: Silhouettes of Russian writers. In 3 editions. Issue. 3. M., 1906 - 1910; 2nd ed. M., 1908 - 1913.
Yu.I. Eichenwald (1872 - 1928) - a well-known literary and theater critic, literary critic, publicist, translator, memoirist, who emigrated to Berlin in 1922. It was practically not reprinted in Soviet times.
"Keep me, my talisman..."
(A.S. Pushkin)
"Keep me from grievous wounds..."
(D.V. Venevitinov)
PUSHKINS AND NORTHERN PROVINCES
And what about the northern provinces?
To answer this question, you need to look into the genealogy of Pushkin and Venevitinov, the northern branches of their family trees:
- 1613, Dvina governor Nikita Mikhailovich Pushkin, nephew of Semyon Mikhailovich - the direct ancestor of the poet;
- 1633 - 1634, governor in Kargopol Fedor Timofeevich Pushkin;
- 1647, governor in Veliky Ustyug Stepan Gavrilovich Pushkin;
- 1652 - 1656, Dvina governor Boris Ivanovich Pushkin, nephew of Nikita Mikhailovich Pushkin;
- 1740 - 1743, Arkhangelsk governor Alexei Andreevich Obolensky (was married to Anna Vasilievna Priklonskaya - the sister of the grandmother of Sergei Lvovich Pushkin); The great-grandson of A.A. Obolensky was Dmitry Vladimirovich Venevetinov, who was also the fourth cousin of A.S. Pushkin. The acquaintance of the poets began in childhood and was continued in Moscow in 1826 upon Pushkin's return from exile.
- 1743 - 1745, the Governor of Arkhangelsk, Acting Chamberlain Alexei Mikhailovich Pushkin;
- In 1826, Pavel Isaakovich Gannibal, the cousin of Pushkin the poet, found himself in exile in Solvychegodsk. According to the dirty denunciations of the mayor Sokolov to the Vologda Governor-General Minitsky, in order to increase the punishment in 1827, the Solovetsky Monastery was assigned to Lieutenant Colonel Hannibal, where he stayed until the autumn of 1832.
In search of the poet's genealogy in the northern land, much has been done by local historians-Pushkinists: Nikolai Alekseevich Shumilov, a researcher at the State Archives of the Arkhangelsk Region, and Igor Vladimirovich Strezhnev, a writer from Arkhangelsk.
VENEVITINOV
Venevitinov Dmitry Vladimirovich (14 (26) September 1805, Moscow, - 15 (27) March 1827, Petersburg, buried in Moscow), Russian poet, critic. This young man was extraordinary in every way. One of his appearance already amazed contemporaries. This is how Venevitinov appeared to the eyes of a woman: “He was a handsome man in the full sense of the word. He was tall, like a statue of marble. And here is the view of the writer: “Venevitinov was a poet in life too: his happy appearance, his quiet and important thoughtfulness, his slender movements, inspired speech, secular, unfeigned courtesy, so familiar to everyone who saw him close, vouched that he shapes his life as a work of grace."
LUBOMUDRY
By 1823, a circle of lovers of wisdom was formed in Moscow - philosophers, which, in addition to Venevitinov, included prose writer V. F. Odoevsky, critic I. V. Kireevsky, writers N. M. Rozhalin and A. I. Koshelev; the prose writer and historian M.P. Pogodin, the poet and philologist S.P. Shevyrev adjoined the circle. These then young writers challenged the philosophical tastes of the age. They turned their mental gaze to the works of the thinkers of "Germany foggy" - Schelling, Fichte, and partly Kant. Formally, the circle broke up in 1825, but spiritual unity continued to be maintained for some time.
September 1826. A.S. Pushkin returns from exile to Moscow and finds himself surrounded by fellow writers - Baratynsky, Vyazemsky, Mickiewicz, Pogodin. Among them, he notices, and then highlights the young poet Dmitry Venevitinov. The young man was smart, handsome and, as literary critics would later define, "a deep and original thinker." N. G. Chernyshevsky wrote about him: “If Venevitinov had lived for at least ten years more, he would have moved our literature forward for decades ...” (Poln. sobr. soch., vol. 2, 1949, p. 926). For a short time, Pushkin became close to the philosophers. He created the poem "In the mundane, sad and boundless steppe", which clearly echoes his reflections on the three epochs of human life with Venevitin's "Three Roses" (1826), "Three Destinies" (1826 or 1827). Pushkin even became the initiator of the publication of the journal of wisdom "Moskovsky Vestnik" (Venevitinov is the author of his program). But the "poet of reality" was alien to some speculativeness, characteristic of Venevitinov.
In our time, assessing the work of Venevitinov, more and more conclusions are being drawn that it is possible that the transition in Russian poetry “from the beauty of form to the sublimity of content” began with him. Many of the themes identified by Dmitry Venevitinov were subsequently successfully revealed in their work by Lermontov and Tyutchev.
VENEVITINOV AND RING - TALISMAN
Without going into the intricacies of Venevitinov's work, we will try to tell the story associated with the ring. The fact is that Dmitry Venevitinov wore a ring in the form of a keychain. It was an ancient ring, unearthed by archaeologists in the ruins of the ancient Roman city of Herculaneum. And he came to Dmitry as a gift from Zinaida Volkonskaya, with whom he was in love. Dmitry Venevitinov dedicates the poem “To my ring” to the ring, where he calls it “a pledge of compassion”, a keeper from “thirst for glory” and “spiritual emptiness”. He asks not to remove the ring even at the "hour of death", "so that the coffin does not separate us." At the end of the poem, he prophetically writes:
And it will open you up again...
Fate allowed him to live a little - 22 years. In October 1826, he moved to St. Petersburg and, under the patronage of Zinaida Volkonskaya, entered the Asian Department of the College of Foreign Affairs. In the winter of 1827 he caught a cold; The disease could not be stopped, and soon the doctor warned the friends who had gathered in the patient's apartment that Venevitinov had only a few hours to live.
It fell to AS Khomyakov to tell him the terrible news. Khomyakov approached the dying man and put on his finger a ring given by Volkonskaya, which the poet swore to wear either on his wedding day or on the day of his death ... The poet was buried with him in the Moscow Simonovsky Monastery.
In 1930, an autopsy of Venevitinov's grave was made, the ring was found and transferred to the Literary Museum. Now the ring is stored in the Bakhrushinsky Museum in Moscow.
HISTORY REFERENCE
ON THE FATE OF ZINAIDA VOLKONSKAYA
Princess Zinaida Alexandrovna Volkonskaya was born in 1792 in Turin from the marriage of Prince Alexei Mikhailovich Beloselsky with Varvara Yakovlevna Tatishcheva.
After marrying Prince Nikita Grigoryevich Volkonsky (died in 1844), she first lived in St. Petersburg and held a high position at court. After 1812 - abroad: in Teplice, Prague, Paris, Vienna, Verona. Returning to Russia, to St. Petersburg, she took up the study of antiquity, but in response she received displeasure and ridicule, and at the end of 1824 she moved to Moscow. Here she took up the study of her native language and literature, domestic antiquities: she was interested in songs, customs, folk legends. In 1825, she even fussed about the foundation of a Russian society for the organization of a national museum and for the publication of ancient monuments.
Her constant interlocutors were Zhukovsky, Pushkin, Prince Vyazemsky, Baratynsky, Venevitinov, Shevyrev and others. Pushkin dedicated "Gypsy" to her and in his famous message on this occasion called her "the queen of muses and beauty."
In 1829 Princess Volkonskaya moved from Moscow to Rome. A poet and composer, she herself wrote cantatas and composed music for them. Known for her "Cantata in memory of Emperor Alexander I". In Rome, she lived as a hermit, but did not forget about Russia - in 1837 she wrote the poem "Neva Water". The collected works of Princess Volkonskaya were published by her son, Prince Alexander Nikitich Volkonsky: "The Works of Princess Zinaida Alexandrovna Volkonskaya."
The princess died in 1862 in Rome.
PUSHKIN AND RING - TALISMAN
A.S. Pushkin, having learned about the death of Venevitinov, said with bitterness and regret: “Why did you let him die?”. But Pushkin already had a short life span - only 10 years. And he also had his own story with the ring ...
In 1899, Russia celebrated the 100th anniversary of the birth of Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin. In May, the Pushkin exhibition was opened. Among the various exhibits was a gold ring. It was about him that I.S. Turgenev wrote: “The ring<…>presented to Pushkin in Odessa by Princess Vorontsova. He wore this ring almost constantly.
Who is this Princess Vorontsova? After Bessarabia and the Caucasus, Pushkin was sent to Odessa, where in 1823-1824 he served in the office of the Novorossiysk Governor-General Count Mikhail Semenovich Vorontsov, and met his wife Elizaveta Ksaveryevna. The poet was deeply fascinated by Countess Vorontsova and dedicated a number of poems to her. She answered him with no less ardent passion, presented him with a talisman ring. Elizaveta Ksaveryevna was thirty-one years old at that time, Alexander Sergeevich was twenty-four. More than 30 drawings with her image have been preserved in Pushkin's manuscripts.
One of their contemporaries describes the character and appearance of E.K. Vorontsova: “She was already over thirty years old, and she had every right to seem young ... With innate frivolity and coquetry, she wanted to please, and no one was better than her in that. She was young in soul, young and in appearance. there was what is called beauty; but the quick, gentle look of her pretty little eyes pierced right through; the smile of her lips, which I have not seen the like, seemed to call for a kiss. " A. S. Pushkin dedicated poems to her: "The Burnt Letter" , "Angel", "For the last time your image is cute..." Vorontsova became one of Tatyana's prototypes in his novel "Eugene Onegin".
But Pushkin's friend A.A. Raevsky was also in love with Elizaveta Vorontsova, who, out of jealousy, told Vorontsova's husband about her connection with Pushkin. According to Alexander Sergeevich, this was the reason for his expulsion from Odessa to the village of Mikhailovskoye. Pushkin was annoyed by this turn of events, wrote the poem "Insidiousness", in which he condemns the act of A.A. Raevsky, composes an epigram on the governor M.S. Vorontsov. Remember: "Half-my lord, half-merchant ...", alluding to the English upbringing of the governor and his dishonest commercial operations in the port of Odessa.
Having left against his will, Pushkin corresponded for some time with Elizaveta Vorontsova. Impressed by love that has not yet cooled down, but is already being lost, Pushkin writes several lyrical poems: “Let beauty crowned with love ...”, A burnt letter, A desire for glory, Everything is a sacrifice to your memory. In the poem “Keep me, my talisman,” Alexander Sergeevich writes: “Keep me in the days of persecution, In the days of repentance, excitement: You were given to me in the days of sadness.”
“The poet’s sister, O.S. Pavlishcheva, told us,” P.V. Annenkov wrote, “that when a letter came from Odessa with a seal decorated with exactly the same cabalistic signs that were on her brother’s ring, the latter locked himself in his room, did not go anywhere and did not take anyone to him.
But he did not save, did not save his talisman. Before his death, Pushkin presented this ring to the poet Zhukovsky. From Zhukovsky, by inheritance, he gets to his son Pavel Vasilyevich, who gives it to I.S. Turgenev. After the death of Turgenev, a famous singer at that time, his close friend, Polina Viardot returned this priceless relic to Russia.
HISTORY REFERENCE
ON THE FATE OF ELIZABETH VORONTSOVA
Vorontsova Elizaveta Ksaveryevna (1792 - 1880), nee Branitskaya, wife of the count, later prince (1844) M.S. Vorontsov, lady of state (1838). She was the youngest daughter of a Polish magnate and the niece of Catherine's favorite Grigory Potemkin, she was born in the family estate of Belaya Tserkov. Lisa spent her childhood and youth in the countryside and ended up abroad, in Paris, only in 1819.
Here she met Count M.S. Vorontsov, whom she married in the same year. The young remained in Europe for another four years.
In 1823, in connection with the appointment of Vorontsov as Governor-General of Novorossiysk, they returned to Russia. In October, her son was born.
Vorontsov forgave his wife for the impermissible flirtation with Pushkin, took Elizaveta Ksaveryevna to Alupka, where the couple set up the estate and palace together, which is still called Vorontsov's.
When the emperor sent the 63-year-old Vorontsov as governor to the Caucasus, at first she cried for a long time, and then she got ready and went to fetch her husband in troubled Tiflis. Further, Elizaveta Ksaveryevna followed her husband wherever his service threw him. Mikhail Semenovich died in 1882 and was buried in the Odessa Cathedral. After the death of her husband, Elizaveta Ksaveryevna remained in Odessa, next to his grave.
She died at the age of 90.
Material prepared by V. Plotnikov
POEMS
A.S. PUSHKIN AND D.V. VENEVITINOV
A.S. PUSHKIN
KEEP ME, MY TALISMAN...
Keep me, my talisman,
Keep me in the days of persecution,
In the days of repentance, excitement:
You were given to me on a day of sorrow.
When the ocean rises
The waves are roaring around me,
When the clouds break like a storm -
Keep me, my talisman.
In the solitude of foreign countries,
In the bosom of boring peace,
In the anxiety of fiery battle
Keep me, my talisman.
Holy sweet deceit
The soul is a magical luminary...
It hid, changed...
Keep me, my talisman.
Let it be in the age of heart wounds
Doesn't ruin the memory.
Farewell hope; sleep, desire;
Keep me, my talisman.
D.V.VENEVITINOV
TO MY RING
You were dug in a dusty grave,
Herald of love for centuries
And again you are grave dust
You will be bequeathed, my ring.
But not love now by you
Blessed eternal flame
And over you, in anguish of the heart,
I made a holy vow...
Not! friendship in the bitter hour of farewell
Gave sobbing love
You as a pledge of compassion.
Oh, be my faithful talisman!
Keep me from grievous wounds
And light, and an insignificant crowd,
From the caustic thirst for false glory,
From a seductive dream
And from spiritual emptiness.
In the hours of cold doubt
Revive your heart with hope
And if in the sorrows of imprisonment,
Far from the angel of love
It will plot a crime, -
You with wondrous power tame
Outbursts of hopeless passion
And from my rebellious chest
Turn away the lead of madness.
When will I be at the hour of death
Say goodbye to what I love here
I will not forget you in farewell:
Then I will ask a friend
So that he is from my cold hand
You, my ring, did not take off,
So that the coffin does not separate us.
And the request will not be fruitless:
He will confirm his vow to me
With the words of the fatal oath.
Ages will fly by, and perhaps
That someone will disturb my ashes
And in it you will open again;
And again timid love
You will whisper superstitiously
Words of tormenting passions,
And again you will be her friend,
As it was for me, my ring is true.
1826 or 1827
A.S. PUSHKIN
BURNED LETTER
Goodbye love letter! goodbye: she said...
How long have I lingered! how long did not want
The hand to set fire to all my joys! ..
But enough, the time has come. Burn, love letter.
I'm ready; my soul does not listen to anything.
Already the greedy flame accepts your sheets ...
Just a minute!.. flared up! blazing - light smoke,
Waving, lost with my prayer.
Having lost the impression of the faithful ring,
The melted sealing wax boils... O providence!
It's done! Dark curled sheets;
On light ashes their cherished features
They turn white ... My chest was shy. Ash dear,
A poor joy in my sad fate,
Stay a century with me on a woeful chest ...
D.V.VENEVITINOV
THREE ROSES
In the deaf steppe of the earth's road,
Emblem of heavenly beauty,
Three roses were thrown to us by the gods,
Eden's best flowers.
Alone under a cashmere sky
Blooms near a bright stream;
She's a marshmallow lover
And the inspiration of the nightingale.
Neither day nor night does she wither,
And if someone breaks it,
As soon as the morning ray peeps through,
A fresh rose will bloom.
Even prettier is the other one:
She, a ruddy dawn
Blooming in the early sky
Captivates with bright beauty.
Fresh from this rose blows
And it's more fun to meet her:
For a moment she glows,
But every day it blooms again.
Still fresh from the third blows,
Although she is not in heaven;
She cherishes for hot lips
Love on virgin cheeks.
But this rose will soon wither:
She is shy and gentle
And in vain the morning ray will glimpse -
It won't bloom again.
THREE FATES
Three fates in the world are enviable, friends.
Lucky, who controls fate for centuries,
In the soul of an unsolved thought melting.
He sows for the harvest, but does not reap the harvest:
The peoples of recognition did not praise him,
The peoples of the curse do not reproach him.
For centuries he bequeaths a deep plan;
After the death of the immortal, things ripen.
More enviable than a poet's destiny on earth.
From infancy, he became friends with nature,
And the heart of the stone saved from the cold,
And the rebellious mind is brought up by freedom,
And a ray of inspiration lit up in the eyes.
He clothes the whole world in harmonious sounds;
Is the heart embarrassed by the excitement of flour -
He will cry out grief in burning verses.
But believe, O others! a hundred times happier
A carefree pet of fun and laziness.
Deep thoughts do not trouble the soul,
He does not know tears and fire of inspiration,
And the day for him, like another, flew by,
And he will meet the future again carelessly,
And the heart will wither without heartache -
Oh rock! why didn't you give me this lot?
A.S. PUSHKIN
* * *
In the worldly steppe, sad and boundless,
Mysteriously broke through three keys:
The key of youth, the key is swift and rebellious,
Boils, runs, sparkling and murmuring.
Castal key with a wave of inspiration
In the steppe of the worldly exiles waters.
The last key is the cold key of oblivion,
It will quench the heat of the heart the sweetest of all.
DESIRE FOR FAME
When, intoxicated with love and bliss,
Silently kneeling before you,
I looked at you and thought: you are mine, -
Do you know, dear, if I wanted fame;
You know: removed from the windy light,
Missing the vain nickname of the poet,
Tired of long storms, I did not pay attention at all
Buzzing distant reproaches and praises.
Could rumors bother me with sentences,
When, bowing to me languid eyes
And quietly laying a hand on my head,
You whispered: tell me, do you love, are you happy?
Another, like me, tell me, will you not love?
Will you never, my friend, forget me?
And I kept an embarrassed silence,
I was full of pleasure, I imagined
That there is no future, that terrible day of parting
Will never come... So what? Tears, pain,
Treason, slander, all on my head
It suddenly collapsed... What am I, where am I? I'm standing
Like a traveler struck by lightning in the desert,
And everything was eclipsed in front of me! And now
I languish with a new desire for me:
I wish glory, so that by my name
Your hearing was struck all the time, so that you
Surrounded by a loud rumor
Everything, everything around you sounded about me,
So that, listening to the faithful voice in silence,
Did you remember my last prayers
In the garden, in the darkness of the night, in the moment of separation.
D.V.VENEVITINOV
Leave me, forget me!
I loved you alone in the world,
But I loved you like a friend
How they love an asterisk on the air,
How they love the bright ideal
Or a clear dream of the imagination.
I learned a lot in life
In one love did not know torment,
And I want to go to the grave
Like an enchanted ignoramus.
Leave me, forget me!
Look - that's where my hope is;
Look - but why are you startled?
No, don't tremble: death is not terrible;
Oh, don't whisper to me about hell:
Believe me, hell in the world, beautiful friend!
Where there is no life, there is no pain.
Give me a kiss as a pledge of goodbye...
Why do your kisses tremble?
Why are your eyes burning in tears?
Leave me, love another!
Forget me, I'll be on my own soon
I will forget the sorrow of earthly life.
1826
A.S. PUSHKIN
The Lemnos god bound you
For the hands of the immortal Nemesis,
Freedom's secret guardian, punishing dagger,
The last judge of Shame and Resentment.
Where Zeus's thunder is silent, where the sword of the Law slumbers,
You are the maker of curses and hopes,
You are hiding under the shadow of the throne,
Under the glitter of holiday clothes.
Like an infernal ray, like lightning of the gods,
The silent blade shines in the eyes of the villain,
And, looking around, he trembles,
Among their peers.
Everywhere it will be found by your unexpected blow:
On land, on the seas, in the temple, under the tents,
Behind hidden castles
On the bed of sleep, in the native family.
The cherished Rubicon rustles under Caesar,
Sovereign Rome fell, the law drooped head;
But Brutus rebelled freedom-loving:
You slew Caesar - and, dead, he embraces
Pompeii marble proud.
The fiend of rebellion raises an evil cry:
Contemptible, dark and bloody,
Over the corpse of Liberty headless
An ugly executioner arose.
Apostle of death, tired Hades
With a finger he appointed victims,
But the Supreme Court sent him
You and the virgin Eumenides.
O young righteous, fatal chosen one,
O Zand, your age has died out on the chopping block;
But the virtues of the saint
There was a voice in the executed ashes.
In your Germany you have become an eternal shadow,
Threatening misfortune criminal force -
And on the solemn grave
The dagger burns without an inscription.
D.V.VENEVITINOV
Enchantress! How sweetly you sang
About the wondrous land of charm,
About the hot homeland of beauty!
How I loved your memories
How eagerly I listened to your words
And how he dreamed of the land of the unknown!
You got drunk on this wonderful air,
And your speech so passionately breathes it!
You looked at the color of heaven for a long time
And she brought us the color of heaven in our eyes.
Your soul flared up so clearly
And a new fire in my chest lit.
But this fire is languid, rebellious,
He does not burn with quiet, tender love, -
Not! he burns, and torments, and mortifies,
Agitated by changing desire,
It suddenly subsides, then boils violently,
And the heart will awaken again with suffering.
Why, why did you sing so sweetly?
Why did I listen to you so eagerly
And from your lips, singer of beauty,
Did you drink the poison of dreams and joyless passion?
Do you know the son of the gods
A favorite of muses and inspiration?
Would I know between the earthly sons
Are you his speech, his movements? -
He is not quick-tempered, and a strict mind
Does not shine in noisy conversation,
But a clear beam of high thoughts
Involuntarily shines in a clear look.
Let around him, in a child of comfort,
Windy youth rebels, -
Crazy cry, cold laughter
And unbridled joy:
Everything is alien, wild for him,
He looks at everything silently.
Only something rare from his mouth
Breaks a fleeting smile.
His goddess is simplicity,
And the quiet genius of thought
He was given from birth
The seal of silence on the lips.
His dreams, his desires
His fears, expectations -
All the mystery is in it, everything in it is silent:
Carefully keeps in the soul
He has unresolved feelings.
When suddenly something
Excites the fiery chest, -
Soul, without fear, without art,
Ready to pour out in speeches
And shines in fiery eyes.
And again he is quiet and bashful
He lowers his gaze to the ground
As if he heard a reproach
For irrevocable impulses.
Oh if you meet him
With reflection on a stern forehead, -
Walk without noise near him,
Don't break with a cold word
His sacred, silent dreams!
Look with tears of awe
And say: this is the son of the gods,
Pet of muses and inspiration!
A.S. PUSHKIN
Poet! Do not value the love of the people.
Enthusiastic praise will pass a moment's noise;
Hear the judgment of a fool and the laughter of the cold crowd,
But you remain firm, calm and gloomy.
You are the king: live alone. By the road of the free
Go where your free mind takes you,
Improving the fruits of your favorite thoughts,
Not demanding rewards for a noble feat.
They are in you. You are your own highest court;
You know how to appreciate your work more strictly.
Are you satisfied with it, demanding artist?
Satisfied? So let the crowd scold him
And spits on the altar where your fire burns
And in childish playfulness your tripod shakes.
Literature:
1. Venevitinov D.V., Complete Works, edited and with notes by B.V. Smirensky. Introductory article by D. D. Blagogoy, [M. - L.], 1934;
2. D. V. Venevitinov, Poln. coll. poems. Intro. Art., preparation of the text and notes. B. V. Neiman, L., 1960.
3. Venevetinov D.V., Poems / Compiled, entry. article and note. V.I. Sakharov. – M.: Sov. Russia, 1982. - 176 p., 1 sheet. Portrait - (Poetic Russia);
4. Mordovchenko N. I., Russian criticism of the first quarter of the 19th century, M. - L., 1959;
5. Pushkin A.S., Collected works in 10 volumes. T.1. Poems 1813 - 1824. M., “Khudozh. Lit., 1974.
6. Pushkin A.S., Collected works in 10 volumes. T.2. Poems 1825 - 1836. M., “Khudozh. Lit., 1974.
7. Pushkin A.S., Collected works in 10 volumes. T.9. Letters 1815 - 1830. M., “Khudozh. Lit., 1977.
8. Russian poets. Anthology of Russian poetry in 6 volumes. Moscow: Children's Literature, 1996.
9. P. N. Sakulin, From the history of Russian idealism, vol. 1, Moscow, 1913;
10. Strezhnev N.V. "To the icy northern waves": A.S. Pushkin and the White Sea North: Lit. - local history essays. - Arkhangelsk: North-West. Book. Publishing house, 1989.
11. Chernyshevsky N.G. Full coll. cit., vol. 2, 1949
Presentation on D. Venevitinov Prepared by teacher Dudnikova Natalya Borisovna, Kazakhstan, Zhezkazgan secondary school No. 22
Presentation on D. Venevitinov (material for a literature lesson) Prepared by teacher Dudnikova Natalya Borisovna, Kazakhstan, Zhezkazgan secondary school No. 22
Marvelous young man
All impressions in sound and color
And the word slender crowded:
And the muses of the youths were proud,
And they said: "He is a poet!"
But only the first page
He read the treasured book
And eternal sleep eclipsed the right hand,
Where the world so gently, luxuriantly blossomed.
Only the first page...
Venevitinov died when he was twenty-one.
Manor of the Venevitinovs
In the Ramonsky district, half an hour's drive from Voronezh, in the village of Novozhivotinnoye, which stretches along the banks of the Don, an old noble estate, the estate of the Venevitinovs, has been preserved. The name of the village comes from a spring with "living" water. The estate consisted of a brick two-story house, an outbuilding, outbuildings, it was surrounded by a beautiful park, from where a wonderful view of the Don River opened. The estate now has a wonderful museum, which presents not only the history of the old family, the life and work of Dmitry Venevitinov, but also the noble estate culture of the 18th-19th centuries. The bright halls of the museum are rarely empty: their silence is broken not only by excursions, but also by literary or musical "evenings by the fireplace"; young couples who have decided to officially unite their destinies prefer to do it here, where everything is filled with beauty and harmony that have been tested for centuries!
Dmitry Venevitinov
The Venevitinov family settled in these parts in the 16th century. Dmitry Venevitinov was born in Moscow, received an excellent education at Moscow University, and was an active participant in literary and philosophical circles. Belinsky said about him: "It was a beautiful morning dawn, predicting a beautiful day." But the poet's life was cut short when he was not even 22... After the Decembrist uprising, he was suspected of involvement in this event, he was placed in prison, but after 3 days he was released, released already mortally ill... He was buried at the Simonov Monastery in Moscow.
D. Venevitinov and A. Pushkin
They talked about the friendship between Dmitry Venevitinov and another great, wonderful poet, Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin.
Besides, they were relatives. And the drawing made by Pushkin in "Eugene Onegin" and which became the image of Onegin is a portrait of Venevitinov, made by the great poet after his death.
D. Venevitinov and Z. Volkonskaya
The fate of Dmitry intersected with other wonderful people. The romantic and unrequited love of Dmitry Venevitinov was connected with Princess Zinaida Volkonskaya. The princess gave Dmitry a ring, which was found during excavations of the ancient Roman city of Herculaneum, destroyed by the eruption of Vesuvius.
The lover said that he would wear it only on the day of the wedding or at the hour of death. Friends, realizing that the death of the poet is close, put a ring on his finger.
Am I getting married? Waking up, he asked...
No, his friend Khomyakov answered him.
Venevitinov's eyes filled with tears.
Venevitinov and Volkonskaya
The fate of Venevitinov, romantic and tragic, excites more than one generation. The "wonderful young man" Venevitinov was extraordinarily talented. His talents are versatile: poet, philosopher, composer, artist. Among his drawings is a portrait of a woman whom he passionately and hopelessly loved. This love endowed Russian poetry with truly beautiful poems.
Enchantress! How sweetly you sang
About the wondrous land of charm,
About the hot homeland of beauty!
How I loved your memories
How eagerly I listened to your words
And how he dreamed of the land of the unknown!
……………………………………………… .
Why, why did you sing so sweetly?
Zinaida Volkonskaya
This woman is Princess Volkonskaya, an artist, musician, and writer. Pushkin called her "Queen of Muses and Beauty". “I still remember and hear,” wrote Vyazemsky, “how she, in the presence of Pushkin and on the first day of meeting him, sang his elegy, set to music by Geneshtoy:
The light of day has gone out,
Fog fell on the blue evening sea ...
Pushkin was vividly touched by this seduction of subtle and artistic
coquetry." A passionate lover of music, Volkonskaya arranged
she hosted not only concerts, but also the Italian opera and appeared on stage in the role of Tancred, striking everyone with her deft playing and wonderful voice: it was difficult to find a contralto equal to her. In the role of Tancred and drew her Venevitinov.
Zinaida Volkonskaya as Tancred, drawing by Venevitinov
Volkonskaya's gift
Volkonskaya was born in Turin and lived in Italy for many years.
And for the poet, Italy was "a wondrous land of charm." And maybe that's why at the moment of parting (Venevitinov was leaving
Petersburg) presented Volkonskaya to the poet in love with a ring, according to legend, unearthed during the excavations of Herculaneum.
From now on, that ring becomes the talisman of Venevitinov.
Oh, be my faithful talisman!
Keep me from grievous wounds
And light, and an insignificant crowd ...
Zinaida Volkonskaya was older than Venevitinov, she already had a fifteen-year-old son. She gave the poet a ring as a "pledge of compassion". When the young man was dying, Fyodor Khomyakov, according to his will, put the ring on the finger of the dying man. So with a ring on his finger, he was buried.
- Venevitinov "To my ring"
- You were dug up in a dusty grave.
- Herald of love for centuries
- And again you are grave dust
- You will be bequeathed, my ring.
- . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
- Oh, be my faithful talisman!
- Keep me from grievous wounds
- And light, and an insignificant crowd,
- From the caustic thirst for false glory,
- From a seductive dream
- And from spiritual emptiness ...
- . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
- Ages will fly by, and perhaps
- That someone will disturb my ashes
- And in it you will be opened again;
- And again timid love
- You will whisper superstitiously
- Words of tormenting passions,
- And again you will be her friend,
- As it was for me, my ring is true.
- Venevitinov wrote that an expensive gift to be bequeathed again to "grave dust" and prophetically predicted:
- Centuries will rush by, and perhaps, That someone will disturb my ashes And open you again in it ...
- His prediction came true: 100 years after the death of the poet, his ashes were reburied at the Novodevichy cemetery. And the ring was removed from the hand, now it is in the State Literary Museum ...
When will I be at the hour of death
Say goodbye to what I love here
Then I will ask a friend
So that he is cold from my hand
You, my ring, did not take off,
So that the coffin does not separate us.
Dmitry Venevitinov
- The arrest of Venevitinov was in connection with the case of the Decembrists.
- Venevitinov was kept for about three days in a damp and cold room in the guardhouse. The interrogation was carried out by General Potapov, who was appointed investigator in the case of the Decembrists. Immediately upon leaving the guardhouse, Venevitinov began to develop a severe cough and intermittent chills.
- On March 15, 1827, more than three months after his arrest, Venevitinov died. The artist Afanasyev sketched the poet in a coffin. Wavy, beautifully combed hair fell wearily on a beautiful high forehead.
- The body of the poet in a zinc coffin was taken to his homeland in Moscow and buried in the cemetery of the Simonov Monastery.
- The unexpected and mysteriously touching death of the poet shocked his friends and admirers. She struck both Pushkin and Delvig. Delvig wrote to Pushkin: "Dear friend, you have probably already mourned poor Venevitinov. I know that his death must have struck you." Pushkin, contemporaries recall, sadly exclaimed to the poet's St. Petersburg friends: "How did you let him die!"
After the death of the poet Venevitinov
Venevitinov, untimely hidden by the "grave canopy", was associated with the image of Lensky. The unearthly poet-dreamer, the wonderful young man Venevitinov, in the imagination of many contemporaries, walked the earth with his sweetly mournful and languid lyre. Dozens of poems were dedicated to his death, in which there were "swans" and "roses", "muses" and "altars", "charms" and "lots". The most sentimental people with a sigh recalled the then fashionable stanzas of Zhukovsky's elegy:
- Here the ashes of the young men untimely hid;
- What glory, happiness, he did not know in this world,
- But the muses did not turn their faces away from him,
- And melancholy stamp was on it.
The mystery of the poet's death
Every year, on March 15, Venevitinov's friends for many years mournfully, solemnly and silently sat at the memorial table. One of the chairs and one of the appliances, as usual, were invariably empty. It seemed to those assembled that the shadow of Venevitinov was invisibly present between them. It touched and gave the charm of mystery.
On July 22, 1930, a group of workers from the People's Commissariat of Education arrived at the former Simonov Monastery. In connection with the demolition of part of the territory of the monastery, on which the Palace of Culture was being built, they were instructed to find the grave of Venevitinov and transfer his ashes to the Novodevichy cemetery. The grave was found and excavated. Anthropologists were struck by the strongly and harmoniously developed skull, the musical development of the fingers. There was a black ring on the ring finger of his right hand. In the evening of the same day, the remains of Venevitinov in a specially prepared coffin with flowers laid on him were buried at the Novodevichy cemetery, where many outstanding writers and artists are buried.
A few years later, a rumor spread among some of the Moscow literary critics that when the coffin was opened, the hands of the deceased were not crossed on the chest, but lay along the body. So they buried only suicides.
The assumption of the poet's suicide was also expressed in the press.
But this version has not been confirmed.
On Voronezh land, in the house of the Venevitinovs, another amazing woman lived. The young Englishwoman Lily Buhl, who worked in 1887 as a governess at the Venevitinov estate, was the future writer Ethel Lilian Voynich, the author of the famous novel The Gadfly. The museum-estate even has a piano, which was played by the famous writer.
Ethel Lilian Voynich
Venevitinov Dmitry
Do you know the son of the gods A favorite of muses and inspiration? Would I know between the earthly sons Are you his speech, his movements? He is not quick-tempered, and a strict mind Does not shine in noisy conversation, But a clear beam of high thoughts Involuntarily shines in a clear look. Let around him, in a child of comfort, Windy youth is raging, Crazy cry, immodest laughter And unbridled joy: Everything is alien, wild for him, He calmly looks at everything Only rarely something from his mouth Breaks a fleeting smile. His goddess is simplicity, And the quiet genius of thought He was given from birth The seal of silence on the lips. His dreams, his desires His fears, hopes - Everything is a mystery in him, everything in him is silent: Carefully keeps in the soul He has unresolved feelings...
poet of Pushkin's time
Igor Pound
The poet's prophecies came true
Eternal world of high truths...
Not! Dreams of heaven with a bold brush
I didn't manage to catch up...
When the prophet of freedom is bold
Anguished poet,
Left the orphaned world
Leaving glory a hot light.
And the shadow of world sorrow,
Laudatory thunder sounded
Your poems follow him ...
- the twenty-year-old Venevitinov prophetically addresses "To Pushkin" in 1926. And on the arrival of the new one - 1827 - he will write, saying goodbye to the old, last year in his life:
But listen, you cruel fugitive!
I swear to you in a farewell moment:
You did not rush off without a return;
I will follow you
And the upcoming brother
I will pay all my heavy debt.
In the spring, unfortunately, the author of these lines will not be. In 10 years, the “mentor” Pushkin himself will also go into oblivion.
His name is shrouded in legends...
How, for example, the following poetic prediction came true:
Ages will fly by, and perhaps
That someone will disturb my ashes
And it will open you up again...
"To my ring"
In 1930, Venevitinov's grave was transferred to the Novodevichy cemetery - during the exhumation of the ashes, the ring donated by Princess Volkonskaya was removed from the ring finger of the poet's right hand and placed as a relic in the Moscow State Literary Museum.
The legacy of Dmitry Vladimirovich is small - about 40 lyric poems, about the same number of letters, the beginning of an unwritten novel, several articles, excerpts from translations. Less than 10 poems, 5 philosophical and critical texts were published during his lifetime. But interest in his personality and creativity does not fade away.
For example, philological battles are still being waged over literary competencies, free interpretations and the publication of Venevitinov's supposedly unpublished letters. In fact, quite familiar to specialists. (A. Reitblat. "Unknown known". UFO, No. 126, 2014).
“Review of Russian Literature in 1829” by I.V. Kireevsky, a friend of D.V. in a circle of philosophers - the first attempt to draw a literary portrait of Venevitinov. Where a high assessment is given to the talent of a young yet quite poet, and where “consonance of mind and heart” is noted as a distinctive character of the spirit of flight, independence and courage in the image of existence. And his very fantasy was more the music of thoughts and feelings than a play of the imagination: "This proves that he was born even more for philosophy than poetry."
Many people took up the solution to the creative person of Venevitinov: M. Pogodin (one of the members of the “society of wisdom”), P. Polevoy, N. Kotlyarovsky, who D.V. - a conductor of Schellingism on Russian soil; also the nephew of the poet M. Venevitinov. Belinsky, Chernyshevsky, Herzen were taken, who believed, they say, D.V. full of "dreams and ideas of 1825".
Further - D. Blagoy, L. Ginzburg, L. Tartakovskaya. The abundance of attempts to unravel the mystery of the identity of the untimely departed writer is also explained by the scarcity of biographical material about the life of this truly remarkable, marvelous young man. The speeches of which, with their philosophical abstraction, “led us into rapture” (A. Koshelev).
Nature endowed Dmitry Vladimirovich Venevitinov with a wide variety of talents: he knew Latin, Greek, French, German and English. He studied painting with the artist Laperche. Music - from the composer Genishta. He was fond of poetry, philosophy, translations, critical work.
Having completed his education at Moscow University, Venevitinov daily and hourly strives to expand his knowledge: he becomes a member of the Society of Philosophy. In which its participants (V. Odoevsky, I. Kireevsky, A. Koshelev and others) studied the philosophy of Schelling, were interested in issues of aesthetics and art. Translates the works of Oken, Plato (“I'm starting to get used to Plato ...”). Virgil, Goethe, Hoffmann. Reflects on the role of education in Russia.
True, many people mocked and mocked the sophistication of the philosophers. Including Pushkin with Kyukhlya: “... Break out, for God's sake, from this rotten, smelly Moscow, where you will become limp in body and soul! Is it your business to serve as an object of surprise for modern ignoramuses - Polevoy and similar owls? - Kiukhelbecker wrote maliciously to Odoevsky.
Alexander Sergeevich, on the other hand, called the wise men "archival youths." Possibly referring to the following lines by Venevitinov:
... sometimes you dig in the dust,
And, right, it happened to tear off
Such a column that you yourself are on the ground,
It was like the sky was opening up.
Bullying of the philosophies, I think, is the essence of another article - at the heart of the underwear and banter is, of course, Pushkin's eternal pursuit of his own unattainable perfection. As well as the friends around him...
In the age of geniuses, tragic and great, whose even light reproaches sound unnaturally stupid, all of them - creators, poets - being extraordinary nuggets, naturally and without a doubt trailed behind Pushkin. Imitating or opposing himself to him.
In addition, Pushkin and Venevitinov were related, which played a big role in the relationship. Bringing poets together in a human and creative way. In general, family ties in secular society meant quite a lot.
A couple of lines for comparison:
But when the eyes are insidioussuddenly enchant youOr mouth in the darkness of the nightKiss not loving -
Dear friend! from crime,
From heart new wounds,
From betrayal, from oblivion
Save my talisman!
Pushkin. "Mascot"
*
... But not love now by you
Blessed eternal flame
And over you, in anguish of the heart,
I made a holy vow...
Not! friendship in the bitter hour of farewell
Gave sobbing love
You as a pledge of compassion.
Oh, be my faithful talisman!
Venevitinov. "To my ring"
Yes, and the ardent glances of both to the "queen of the Moscow world" Princess Zinaida Volkonskaya added fuel to the fire with regards to friendly jokes. True, unlike the omnivorous, quickly flammable and amorous Pushkin, Dmitry's passion for Volkonskaya downright tore the soul of the unfortunate philosopher. Deprived him of peace and, perhaps, "accelerated an early death" (biographer Pyatkovsky). What is lyrically captured in the poems "To my goddess", "Elegy", "Italy", "To my ring" and others
Now chase the wonderful life
And resurrect every moment in it,
For every sound of her call -
Respond with a hymn.
He highly appreciates the role of poetry and literature in the life of the people: "... read, dream - let the veil of time fall before you", "there is no limit to the beautiful", "the poet is the son of the gods, a favorite of muses and inspiration", "the poet's lot on earth is more enviable "," Genius is available for the voice of sincere hearts, "- we read in the verses of a very young man.
Venevitinov loftily writes about sculpture: "The sacred monuments of human efforts are alive - they have not been touched by the erasing scythe of time." About painting: "The feelings of a person completely poured out onto a dead canvas, and the thought of the infinite became understandable to him." About the music: “The feeling of life has spread everywhere; everything resounded with the sounds of joy, and all the sounds merged into a common magical harmony.
For a full understanding of Venevitinov's attitude to education, his critical articles are important.
About the novel "Eugene Onegin": "He is a new lovely flower in the field of our literature." On Pushkin's tragedy "Boris Godunov": "Amazing in its simplicity and energy, it can be boldly placed along with everything that is best in Shakespeare and Goethe." Thoughtful analysis of texts by Polevoy, Merzlyakov, Pogodin is important.
In 1826, the article "On the state of education in Russia" was written. By the way, in the same year, Pushkin developed Notes on Public Education, to which Nicholas I reacted ambiguously: “Enlightenment, which serves as the basis for perfection, is a rule that is dangerous for public peace!” - as if the Emperor shook his finger at Pushkin.
And yet, it is about Culture with a capital letter, without which there is no freedom and “true activity” in Russia, that Venevitinov’s article is talking about.
Every person, endowed with enthusiasm, familiar with “high pleasures”, strives for education, spiritual growth: “Self-knowledge is the goal and crown of man,” the author is convinced. For the sake of this, the artist creates, animating the canvas and marble. The poet writes poetry, proclaiming the triumph of the mind. The same goal is pursued by humanity, striving for enlightenment. That is, to self-knowledge of the degree to which it is aware of its affairs and determines the scope of its action.
What degree has Russia reached in this field? he asks.
Alas, if all the “independent peoples” developed education from sources, so to speak, domestic, local. That Russia received everything from the outside. Her enlightenment, like art, is imitative. It lacks real freedom and true activity.
Russia has taken only the outward form of education. She erected an imaginary edifice of literature for no reason whatsoever. The core of our enlightenment consists of the confused judgments of the French about philosophy and art. Which are revered by laws: conditional shackles (like the trinity) and the ignorant self-confidence of the French were the subject of imitation, and the wrong rules were replaced by the absence of any rules in our country.
Some of the writers believed that the development of culture in Russia was evidenced by the general passion for expressing themselves in poetry. Here Venevitinov gives free rein to his causticity: "... the large number of poets in any nation is the surest sign of its frivolity." After all, the true poets of all nations, all ages and times were deep, deepest thinkers. Were philosophers, so to speak, the crown of enlightenment. And often a poetic feeling in people only frees them from the obligation to think. Distracts from the lofty goal of improvement. And therefore it is necessary to "think more than produce"!
How, after all, to educate Russia? Venevitinov proposes the following program.
First, relying on the solid roots of modern philosophy, to provide a complete picture of the development of the "human mind". The writings of writers should help this. Journals that tell about theoretical research, their application to the history of society and Melpomene in particular: "Philosophy and its application to all epochs of sciences and arts - this is the subject that deserves our special attention."
